You decide it's better to remain where you are, and call as loud as you can for the attendant to release you from this enormous fish tank.
You kick your feet gently to stay above the water and filled your lungs with as much of the air as they could hold. The particular lightness or even a nothingness of the air was a surprise. Your chest didn't strain to hold the deep breath. Your mouth wasn't cooled by the air as it rushed by. It was almost nonexistent. And yet there was no struggle for oxygen; your mind and body remained clear and focused.
You allow yourself to forget the strangness of your environment for a moment and calmly call into the darkness, "Hello." You expect your voice to echo against the cold, steel barriers of the tank, but there was nothing.
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading a branch in the story
Distant Shores. This branch
was posted on January 2, 2008 by
framboise.
This is a collaborative story.
This story is filed under:
Fantasy, Science Fiction
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